


Late Nights

by enygmashow



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Other, PI Riddler, does edward nygma is gay?, he doesnt know bruce is batman though, its implied that eds dating bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9458102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enygmashow/pseuds/enygmashow
Summary: It’s been months since he has last seen the Batman in person.He’s going to change that.





	

“...And then tomorrow at five, the Gazette would like you to come in for an interview on the recent Arkham breakout. They want some advice on what to expect--"

Raising a finger, Edward interrupts his secretary, eyes never leaving the case file in front of him.

“Clear my five o’clock and tell the Gazette to expect Batman to handle it. They’re assuming I have eyes inside Gotham's Criminals own minds at this point, I’m sick of it.”

She frowns, writing something down in her planner as he shifts about papers. Three files lay in front of the PI. One robbery, two murders. One is suspected to be manslaughter, or a very sloppy murder. No one can be that idiotic.

Actually. No. That's a lie. There are people out there who are that stupid.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Edward partly listens to his secretary ramble about upcoming events to prepare for.

“...Then next week, Mr. Wayne has invited you to his annual charity ball at Wayne Manor. He said he'd love it if you'd at least stop by for a drink. The press will be there, and the ball is to fundraise for…”

Toning her out, he stares blankly at the papers, letting his mind wander off.

It’s been awhile since he’s actually spent some time with Bruce Wayne, and nearly a week since he’s talked to him. Multiple times has he _thought_ about casually texting Bruce, slyly sending a riddle or asking if they could meet up when he finally takes a break. Unfortunately, he hasn't taken a break, refusing to stop his investigations for even a small lunch break with Bruce.

With a few taps of his phone, he opens up the messages last sent to him days ago.

 

* * *

**'Are you free for lunch?’**

**'No, I’m pretty tied up right now.’**

**'Ah, okay. Text me when you're free. x’**

* * *

 

Wow. He's heartless. Didn’t even send an x back.

 

Mable continues to talk, Eddie’s focus drifting towards the window. The city is alive, lights shining in the night, illuminating the streets yet making the shadows seem oh so long. At this hour, he’d be anywhere but here. Fleeing from Batman on the rooftops, taunting him through his comms, jeering and teasing until a battle of Brain versus Brawn ended the night at last.

He almost misses the trips to Arkham. Not Arkham itself, god no, but the car ride there was a good five minutes of talking with Batman. Listening to the same old rant about how this wouldn't happen if he got better.

Of course, talks of redemption are abandoned when redemption finally comes, along with literally every other form of contact. He hasn't talked to Batman in _months._ Months! How disappointing.

Months can drive a man mad enough to long for the thrill of a chase and the humiliation of defeat, so long as it was by his hands. 

There’s no sign of him nearby, but any fool with half a brain would know he’s out and about. Arkham had another break out. A good number of inmates are free, and while he doesn't exactly know who, it’s obvious Batman would be busy.

Busy, busy, busy. Always busy. Busy.

He mutters the word busy under his breath a few times in a mocking tone, looking back towards Mabel.

Busy. Hm.

She continues to talk about upcoming events he has been invited to, flipping through her planner to recompose her thoughts. Edward cuts her off abruptly, seconds before she could even get her last thought out.

“Mabel, when was the last time you took off?”

She shifts her weight, responding softly. “A few weeks ago, Mr. Nygma.”

He nods, taking a moment to think before he speaks.

“Take the rest of the night off.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” He turns to face her, leaning on the desk. “Infact, take tomorrow off as well. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Mr. Nygma, sir, I--”

He makes a shoo motion with his hand. Mabel blinks.

“...Thank you. I’ll see you Monday.” She replies, barely containing her relief.

Mabel closes the door to the office and quickly gathers her belongings before rushing home, presumably. Honestly, he could care less about where she is going. 

Opening a desk drawer, Ed takes out a bottle of scotch and a glass. Carefully, he pours himself some of the drink before putting the top on and setting it aside. Bringing the glass to his lips, he takes a small sip, looking outside.

 

It’s been months since he has last seen the Batman in person.

He’s going to change that.

 

Putting down the glass, Edward sits back in his chair, carefully eyeing the space below his desk. There, glowing a soft green hue, was a small button. Originally the purpose was to alert the Dark Knight of any pressing dangers going on in his office. One push and all audio within the room is recorded and instantly sent to Batman. A second push, and it’s turned off, just as easy at that. It's a genius idea, and _obviously_ one of Edward's own designs.

Idly, Edward debates on how to approach this situation. The button was for emergencies, but this could be considered an emergency. What should he say? Should he threaten to shoot his secretary? She’s gone, and surely he’d never do that to her, but Batman doesn't know that. Confident in this approach, Edward reaches under the desk, lightly tapping the button.

Second thoughts occur, and all that is recorded is silence. He’s speechless, words just beyond his grasp. A second more of silence passes, then Edward sighs, tapping the button a second time to stop the recording.

“That went well” He laments as he takes a sip of his drink.

He looks at the small clock ticking away on his desk, and softly counts under his breath. Why is he counting? He doesn't know why he's counting. Maybe there's a small hope that Batman will show despite no message being left. Maybe he's curious as to what Edward was going to say. Maybe he wants to see him. Maybe he wants to catch up, talk recent leads and possible connections between cases.

Maybe a Private Investigator is hoping for far too much. High hopes don't always turn out for the best. Grumbling softly, Edward goes back to counting the seconds ticking by.

 

One minute has gone by. He could check the news. Antagonize those talking ill about him on social media.

A minute and thirty seconds. He catches a glimpse of something on the rooftops a few blocks away, but decides to ignore it. There are plenty of “glimpses” at this time of night. To get by in Gotham, you must choose to ignore most, and assume you only misheard something else to be a gunshot.

Two minutes. What about checking GCPD broadcast? See what they're reporting? They always keep tabs on small things that may be important to the cases laying on the desk in front of him.

Two minutes and thirty seconds. He forgot why he was counting, focus directed to the cases on his desk as he chews the edge of his pen without realizing he's doing so.

Three minutes. The noises from outside become louder, and a chill creeps in. Edward goes still, recognising what was occurring as a small grin grew on his face. He takes a sip of his drink before sitting back.

 

“I can't quite see the reason now, but I do what I must do. I shriek and squeak and flap about--”

Turning in his chair, he grins, looking up at the looming vigilante.

“--In order to find you.”

There is no “What am I?” at the end of the riddle. The point is firmly established, Batman is here, just as he wanted. Looming over the reformed rogue, eyes narrowed, same old stern frown on his face. Just the very sight of it makes Edward grin, chills being sent up his back as he tilts his head. 

“We hardly ever work together anymore, Dark Knight. Have you decided to ditch your favorite Private Investigator? Now, don’t tell me you found a new riddle loving investigator to threaten and stalk. That’d break my heart.”

His eyes remain narrowed, expression set in stone as Batman stares Edward down, tone blunt and cold.

“We don't work together because I know you won't mess up. I don't need to watch you at this point.”

Ed frowns, standing up and grabbing his drink to take a small sip as the Detective watches.

“What do you want, Nygma?”

“Oh, let's flip that and go with a question on what _you_ want. Care for a drink, Detective?”

Without a response, Edward takes out the extra glass in his drawer and pours some scotch into it. Putting the bottle back, he shuts the drawer with his foot and offers the drink to the other.

Batman stares at him, then glances down at the glass before looking back up.

“I don't drink.”

“Liar." 

“I don't drink while I’m _working._ ”

“Killjoy.”

Ed takes another sip of his drink, gently putting it down before he hops up to sit on his desk. Eyes barely leaving the Dark Knight’s gaze, he traces the rim of his glass carefully, small grin on his face.

Batman's lip twitches as he stares at Edward, then leans back.

“You’re doing this for attention, aren't you.” He states. It’s not even asking because they _both_ know the answer is yes.

And it shows as Eddie pouts, narrowing his eyes at the other before sitting up.

“What if I was?”

“I don't have time for your games tonight, Ed.”

Edward remains silent, watching with disappointment as Batman goes to leave. He wants to tell him to stay, he wants to tell him so much, he wants him to focus on him. He’s nearly out the window now. _Say something._

 

“What about some genuine conversation?”

No response.

“I wanted to talk about us.”

 

He stops, still facing the window. He’s listening now, but not taking much into consideration from the looks. closing his eyes, Edward takes a breath.

“It's weird, lately. I’ve been reflecting on a lot of things that had happened in the past, and it all comes back to you. I can’t stop thinking about you. No matter how much I try to avoid it, I can't. I have perfect recall, and of course when you come to mind I reflect on everything we’ve done. Most are of our little talks heading to or even inside of Arkham. I remember every word of it. I couldn't forget even if I tried. And trust me, Detective, _I’ve tried._ ”

“One situation always comes to mind. One meeting that stays etched into my brain, meaningless at the time of course. All of them seem to be lingering, but lately? I’ve reflected on just one. One relevant conversation, constantly playing back like a broken record. Over and over.”

“You said that if I wasn't a criminal, you wouldn't talk to me at all. That could go for any topic. It could mean we never would have met, or you only had cared about a reform more than the person reforming. You don't really care about me, I can respect that. I have respected that. I can accept that too. You don't care unless I die or turn back to crime. That's fine. I’m perfectly okay with that.”

Edward pauses for a moment, silently mouthing his next sentence before he grabs his drink and takes another small sip, placing the glass down carefully before he carries on.

“Sorry, I just. I miss you. A lot. I miss seeing and talking to you nightly. I miss how _close_ we've gotten, take that as you will. I miss working with you, too. It’s killing me, Detective. It’s never taken this long. I thought It’d pass by eventually, but no. It’s staying and I-- I think I need you. I should go to Arkham for saying that. I shouldn't say that.”

Batman’s voice abruptly interrupts Edward’s train of thought as he chimes in, tone low and slow. “I don't have enough time for this. Wrap it up so I can leave, Nygma”

 

Eddie bites his lip, softly speaking.

“I don't know how exactly to describe it, but I… I think I love you, Batman.” He laughs dryly, running a hand through his hair. “I belong in Arkham. No sane man would say that to someone who constantly ruined their life. I’m so sorry. I just wanted it off my chest. I want to stop thinking about you but--”

“Edward.”

“--I just _can't_ okay. I really want to. I long to cut you out of my life. It’s a riddle, somewhat.”

“Edward.”

He laughs softly, strained grin on his face. “Riddle me this: What is the Riddler without Batman? I can't seem to solve it. Am I a sane man without you? Legally, no. Am I a happy man without you? No. A rich man? Somewhat. Famous?  Somewhat. But happy? Am I happy? Am I okay? Am I--”

 

He pauses,  Batman fully facing him now with crossed arms. Edward blinks, speaking softly.

“Am I rambling?”

“You’ve been rambling, Eddie. For the past five minutes.”

Ed sighs softly, letting out a soft sigh as he looks towards the Dark Knight. Silence takes over the room, neither of them moving. Looking down at what's left in his glass,  Edward takes a second to glance at Batman before finishing the drink.

He puts the glass down a bit too hard, and holds his breath.

 

“You're not saying anything,  Detective.”

Silence.

“Have you heard this before? How many times have you heard something like that before?”

Silence.

“Yeah. Okay. Sorry.”

 

Carefully, Batman reached out and gently squeezed Edward's shoulder, speaking softly.

“We can talk about this later, Eddie.”

 

Later. They can talk about it later. Somehow, he finds comfort in those words, closing his eyes and nodding slowly. The hand slides off his shoulder and Ed watches Batman for a moment.

He then turns, looking at the glass poured for Batman.

 

“Hey, before you go, are you sure you don't want your drink--”

Looking back up, Edward finds himself alone again, distant sounds of Gotham nightlife clear.

He sighs, picking up the extra glass and preparing to take a drink before pausing.

 

Staring into the glass, he slowly places it back down.

 

“Later.”

 


End file.
